Leaping from small-town hustle to big-city bustle

Adjust your social expectations when you move into the big city.

Taylor Sharp

Sometimes I feel like there’s nothing to do in Minneapolis. It’s a bulging smorgasbord of culture and opportunities, sure, but this town’s activities are so different from the hijinks I experienced in Austin, Minnesota.

There, weekend fun comprised of eating cheese curds at Culver’s and pushing old tires down a slide.

I’ve come to accept these small, simple activities. In my mind, a good time comes from, say, sitting around a bonfire getting ash in my face. Bonfires are difficult to find in Minneapolis, though.

And sticking around my city apartment is not an option. I need something more substantial than my friend and I spending ten minutes deciding if a stain on the wall looks more like Maine or Michigan and spending another ten pushing a couch in front of it (the carpet is thick so it was hard to push).

You’re probably saying, “Taylor, Minneapolis is exciting and fun. Why the hell are you such a nincompoop?” First, wow, you’ve got a mouth, and secondly, I’m realizing that in this city it’s necessary to be unsure about the outcome of certain events or activities, especially if it’s totally dissimilar to the familiar pleasantness of high school movie night.

The coolness of the Twin Cities really only presents itself when I insert myself into it, keeping connected with diverse people and checking events pages. Though I have nothing against lazing around, the Twin Cities are active and exciting if you realign your assumptions of “a good time.”